


frost

by halcyonian



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck, Unrequited Love, or at least he thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonian/pseuds/halcyonian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kisses like frost and love like ice</p>
            </blockquote>





	frost

His kisses are like frost, trailing down your neck and smattering your collarbone, even though you know he's warm himself. You know that. You've felt him, the blood pulsating under his skin, thrumming and full of life, warmth tingling the artificial nerves that had been so painstakingly made, each and everyone of them plugged into your brain, which was an array of circuits and wires.

_(It only reminded you of how much you couldn't be like him, couldn't be a son of Adam, couldn't be human as you wanted to be.)_

You're cold, and full of pain. Because you know you're just some sort of practice dummy, a convenience, a substitute for someone he really cared about. A target for his misdirected affection, and every time you asked if he loved you, he'd say yes, yes, of course. Of course. But he never had uttered the words love, out of the twenty eight times you had asked him.

_(Of course, you had counted. You wanted to count up to the time that he would say love to you back, and not be a tinny echo of your own voice)._

You tell him to stop, pushing him away gently with the palm of your hand resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against your fingertips, loud and clear. He stares at you, amber eyes full of curiosity, wondering why you had told him to pause. They were bright, eyes like the sun on a dimming horizon, and just as dazzling. _(You'd often say he was beautiful, but he'd always told you otherwise, telling you that eyes weren't anything special, and they weren't windows to the soul, especially not his own.)_

"Do you love me?"

You ask, for the hundredth time.

_(Of course you had counted. Of course.)_

"Yes. I do."

You bite back a smile, and the urge to call him a liar, but you were just a fool, a lovesick fool, and just press another kiss to his lips.


End file.
